Subsist
by Suslin
Summary: Elizabeth's father has forced her to marry Commodore Norrington instead of Will and the young lovers are heartbroken. How will each survive in their new situation? Can Elizabeth find love in the commodore? Can Will ever recover? Ch 4 Up
1. The Wedding

Subsist

By Suslin

Elizabeth Swann's father has forced her to marry Commodore Norrington instead of Will and the young lovers are heartbroken. How will each survive in their new situation? Will Elizabeth find love in the serious commodore? Is Will destined to be alone? Suggest your own characters and plot ideas.

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_Oh god, I wish I were dead,_ thought Elizabeth Swann savagely as she started down the aisle, one hand gripping her bouquet of flowers like it was the one thing on earth that could save her from her intended husband. As she strode down aisle, held high, she fiercely defended her love for Will Turner. Oh, how she loved that man. In the mix of things, she knew they were meant to be together. The way she knew it was he when his shadow fell across her. The way she knew what he was going to say before he even said it. How they just couldn't be apart for long periods of time. She knew because her heart was aching. She felt him at his forge, working furiously on another sword, trying to blot out the wedding bells that were ringing in St. Mary's.

Elizabeth followed her right arm down to her hand where it was resting atop her father's. She contemplated digging her long, shapely nails into the back of his hand, but thought better of it.  She clenched her teeth. How she would like to tear the neatly powdered wig from his bald head and throw it down, spit on it, then scream at him.

"Father, don't you love me? Don't you want me to be happy? Don't you want you want me to marry for love? Because if you love me, you don't show it!"

Elizabeth tried let the anger overwhelm her so that it would be more likely for her to do something rash and hurt someone than it was for her to cry. She bit her lip hard and tried to think of all the reasons why she was mad at her father and at Commodore Norrington, but her anger slipped and gave way to sorrow. Behind her veil, her lip started to tremble and her throat began to knot. She bit her lip harder, but that brought tears even more quickly to her eyes. She refused to show any tears. She would be strong. She loosened her death grip on her bouquet and felt along length of the stem of a white rose, searching for a thorn.  She found one, finally, and she dug her finger into it. The sudden pain made her gasp and her father looked at her, concerned. She forced a smile and was about to mouth "corset", but she realized she had overused the whole corset business. She would have to find some other horrible invention of fashion to blame.

Elizabeth looked down at her lace glove and noted that a dark red stain was spreading from the puncture mark. She pressed her thumb against the incision to stop the bleeding. She had mastered her tears and she felt brave enough to look ahead.

She raised her eyes to her soon-to-be husband. Oh, yes. There was the happy groom waiting for his happy bride. Elizabeth scowled, but then experimented with smiling genuinely. She felt her lips twist awkwardly. The smile did not reach her eyes and she knew the smile looked false. She stared at Commodore Norrington, trying to coax something out of his face that would help her from her stupor. Nothing. Of course not.

She looked around her at the smiling faces, at all the expectant people who were watching her progress towards the altar. Not one of them looked sorry for her. Oh yes, it was a smart match, the commodore and the governor's daughter. What a wedding it will be. And they look so good together. Damn them.

They were almost at the altar now, and Elizabeth gave her father a steely glare as he passed her on to Commodore Norrington. His face split into an unfamiliar grin and Elizabeth felt herself smile slightly in return. He took her hand eagerly and they stepped forward. The priest opened the Bible to a bookmarked page and began to speak.

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Will's hair was dripping with sweat and the sharp, controlled anger in his movements made the pearly beads fly off the soaking strands. He ground his teeth and reached for several different pieces of steel. He stacked them on top of each other, then shoved them into the furnace. He heated the different layers, then yanked them from the direct fire and began to hammer them into one piece with a furious intensity.  _This is a sword, _Will thought to himself, _forged by fury, in the fires of fury._ He put the steel back into the fire, reheated the now brick- sized piece, then folded the metal half crosswise once it had become soft enough. _It is a sword of fire. A sword to cut and burn. _ As he folded and refolded the steel, he drew the piece out every so often to hammer it back into the rough size and shape of the sword he was making. _A sword made in anger. He beat at the steel, his emotions shifting. _And a sword made in sorrow._ _

He took a knife that was beside the anvil, then sliced down his index finger. He dropped the knife then squeezed the cut, letting a few drops of blood fall onto the blade. He shoved the metal back into the fire and folded the steel over the blood. _A sword made from my blood and my sweat._ He pulled the steel out again and squeezed more blood onto it. After a while, he began to feel dizzy so he stuck his finger against the hem of his shirt, applying pressure onto the cut from the other side of the cloth. He kept it there for a minute, then continued heating and folding the metal. He folded the blade over and over until it had been folded 313 times. He wiped the sweat from his brow in one sharp stroke, but then he paused. Wedding bells were ringing in the distance, joyful peals echoing down through the city and into the harbor. Will lowered his arm. His hands were shaking. Fury and anger overwhelmed him more than sorrow. _How could they do this? Marry __Elizabeth__ off to the Commodore when she didn't even love him? If he loved her at all, then he would her to marry whomever she wished. _Me.___ She loves me. But after today, we'll barely see each other anymore. She'll move to a new house who knows where and will have to do all sorts of housewife duties. Will clenched a fist and slammed it against the stone wall of the forge. Imagining Elizabeth with another man brought him so much anger, he couldn't stand it. How would he know if he was treating her right? The answer: he didn't._

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Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. How was she going to do this? Would she just give up without a fight and say, "I do" or would she scream "Never!" and run from the church to Will?

"Elizabeth, are you alright?" She heard Commodore Norrington ask. Elizabeth sighed. _Perhaps I can learn to love him. Perhaps it won't be so bad after all. And if it is, I can just poison him one day. Or poison myself. Either way, I would be rid of him_. Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked into Commodore Norrington's. _I hope you will endeavor not to make me lament this day._

"Yes, I do." There was a tremendous rush of air that swept over her._ Did I just say that?_ All of a sudden, everything around her seemed so far away, unreal, as if she was seeing her life through a thick pane of glass. She didn't hear the priest day "You may now kiss the bride," she only saw Commodore Norrington bend down towards her. She closed her eyes and his lips brushed against hers. They were dry from nervousness and they felt like dead leaves against her mouth. He stepped back, licked his lips then beamed. There was cheering and clapping and Edward, for that is what she would call him now, took her hand and he pulled her down the steps and they ran down the aisle together, everyone throwing flower petals as they went. Outside there was a white carriage with pink flowers draped across it. Two milk-white horses were harnessed to it, their manes and tails braided with pink ribbons to match. They shifted from foot to foot and snorted amid all the excitement and the crowd that suddenly surrounded them. Edward Norrington helped his wife into the carriage and they were taken to the village green where the party would take place.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will lurched to his feet, then took the piece of metal up in his hands again. He cut, ground and hammered a curvature into the blade,  then began the process of hardening the metal. He heated the blade, then quenched it in a light oil. He did this repeatedly, then moved over to the clay oven on the other side of the forge. He placed the metal in, then started to heat the oven. The metal would  slowly be heated to 400 degrees over about two hours in the oven, then his least favorite part.

Will jumped as there was a sudden racket outside and a clatter of hooves. He heard something hit the door and he ran to the window and opened the wooden shutters. A carriage bedecked in pink was rolling past and in it he saw the radiantly beaming face of Commodore Norrington and the stricken face of Elizabeth. Her eyes sought out the blacksmith's shop and as they rolled past, their eyes met. She raised an ungloved hand to him and her eyes glinted unnaturally with unshed tears.  She smiled sadly at him, then mouthed, "Goodbye Will." Then she was gone.

Will pushed himself from the window and closed the shutters. He moved through the shadows of the forge, tears streaming freely down his face. In his mind, he began flirting with the idea of using his new creation for a purpose other than practice and pirating. 


	2. The Reception

Subsist

By Suslin

Elizabeth Swann's father has forced her to marry Commodore Norrington instead of Will and the young lovers are heartbroken. How will each survive in their new situation? Will Elizabeth find love in the serious commodore? Is Will destined to be alone?

OMG! Guys, you are so great! Thank you so much for reviewing!!!! Here's another chapter. Hope you like it.

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Elizabeth had never seen the commodore looking so giddy and boyish. In fact, until this day she had barely even seen him smile, let alone laugh and joke. He was happy, Elizabeth thought. At least someone was. 

"Darling, it's time to cut the cake," He murmured into her ear. Elizabeth felt like swatting him away and telling him not to breathe warm air into her ear. He was trying her patience with his constant and inconspicuous displays of affection. Elizabeth sidestepped away from him, then gave a small curtsy to the two guests she had been speaking to.

"It was so nice to meet you and thank you so much for coming. Now, if you'd care to join us cut the cake…" Elizabeth motioned towards the large tent that had been erected in the middle of the green. The top of a large wedding cake could be seen over the heads of the guests who were already under the tent. The couple nodded excitedly and hurried towards the tent, eager to get a good view of the cake cutting. Edward bowed to her in an overly extravagant manner, then straightened and offered her the crook of his arm. Elizabeth took it hesitantly, not sure whether to be annoyed or exasperated. He led her towards the tent, a glint in his eye and a bounce in his step.

At the edge of the tent, the crowd parted like the Red Sea at Moses' command. As the people parted a way for them, Elizabeth saw that her father was waiting by the table. She stopped dead in her tracks. He was smiling at her in an overly self-satisfied manner and it suddenly hit her. He didn't care a bucketful of spit how she felt. Elizabeth clutched Edward's arm tightly, but still he led her forward. She stared wide-eyed at her father, her revelation slowly sinking in. He had her marry Edward to save his own reputation. If she had married Will, the people of Port Royal and other politically-inclined persons might think less of him. Will was nobody to them. Edward was somebody. It was a marriage of convenience.

Elizabeth tore her gaze from her father and she numbly took up the knife. Edward put his hand over hers and he guided her hand to the cake.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will took the sword from the oven, then set it down on the stone edge of the forge. He set up the sanding wheel, then fitted it with the 50 grit wheel. When the metal had cooled, he started spinning the wheel with a foot pedal. He ran the blade across the surface of the wheel, sanding it into the exact shape he wanted. Every once in a while he changed wheels,  working his way from the rough 50 grit wheel to the smooth 120 grit wheel. With each wheel, the metal became smoother and sharper. After two hours of sanding the blade, he whet the cutting edge to a blood-drawing finish and gave the piece a fine polish. He put the blade down, then got out a light acid for the acid wash. Pouring a generous amount into a wooden tub, he slipped the metal into the tub. He would leave the metal in the liquid overnight, letting the acid eat away at the softer metal.

He sighed and rubbed at his puffy eyes with the heels of his palms, since they were the only parts of his hands untouched by soot and dirt.

"You've worked hard all day, lad. Why don't you go down to the pub and get yourself some food?" Will looked up, startled. He had been working so intently on his sword that he had completely forgotten about the other occupant of the blacksmith's shop. Master Brown was standing in the doorway that led into sanded alleyway where, in addition to making the shoes for horses, he also shod them. Will nodded.

"Thank you." Will bowed his head, then went over to a dusty chair in the corner of the room and he picked up his brown leather vest. He headed towards the door, but stopped when his master spoke again.

"Will, here. Take this." Will looked up and reacted just in time to catch a coin that tumbled through the air, shimming silver. Go buy yourself a drink. You look like you need it."

"Yes, I think I do. Thank you very much." Will slipped the coin out of his pocket, then went out the door. He stepped outside, the warm Jamaican evening, embracing him.  He closed the door behind him, then sagged against it.

"Oh, god, Elizabeth. How could you do this to me?" Will closed his eyes and slowly sank to the ground. He put his hand over his mouth. He felt nauseous and when the night wind blew across him, chilling him, he was sent into alternating waves of hot and cold. He looked up, the moon's light reflecting off the tears that spilled down his cheeks. He put his hand down on the stone stair beside him, but he drew it back sharply. He looked down at what had pricked him. It was a white rose, withered and dirty, with a white lace glove tied around it.

_He heard something hit the door and he ran to the window and opened the wooden shutters. _Will unknotted the glove from the flower and looked at it. On the inside wrist, the Letters EMS were embroidered in carnation pink thread. _She raised an ungloved hand to him and her eyes glinted unnaturally with unshed tears. Elizabeth. Will pressed the lace glove to his cheek, his tears soaking it. He couldn't live without her. It just wasn't possible. He lurched to his feet. He knew what he had to do. He had to go to her._

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Elizabeth chewed on the piece of cake that Edward had put in her mouth. She didn't taste anything, she didn't hear anything. She only saw her father, whom she now hated with a vengeance.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth. Swallow. You've chewed the cake enough." Elizabeth stared at Edward, then swallowed. She bowed her head, pulled  a small piece from the from the slice of cake they had already cut, then put it in Edward's mouth, trying her best not to touch him while she did so. She managed, but as she was retracting her hand, he grabbed it and kissed the icing coated fingers.

Elizabeth's finger's twitched in Edward's grasp when her father stepped forward.

"And now, let the festivities begin!" There was cheering, and the music immeadiately started. Without even waiting for Elizabeth to wipe her hands, he twirled her out onto the dance floor. Elizabeth felt sick. She just wanted to go home, collapse in her bed and sleep. But home was no longer home. And home meant being under the same roof as her father. The colors around her blurred and at the first possible chance, she whirled out of his arms and into the nearest chair she could find. She clutched the back of the chair, until the world stopped spinning. She looked up and saw Edward coming over toward her with two bowls. She shook her head. One bowl. He came closer and she saw that there were white lumps of something in the bowl. Edward came and placed the bowl on the table. Elizabeth stared. They were white-chocolate dipped raspberries. Elizabeth fell back into the chair. They were her favorite dessert.

"I was saving this until later, but you looked a bit dizzy. I thought this would make you feel better."

"How did you know?" Elizabeth murmured, dazed. Edward grinned at her

"You had mentioned it once at a dinner party my father hosted," he said, picking up one of the round orbs." I made a point of remembering it. I thought it might come in handy one day." He smiled broadly at her stunned expression, then popped the raspberry into her open mouth. Elizabeth just stared. Edward laughed, then put his fingers on her chin and snapped her mouth shut. Elizabeth chewed and looked down at her hands. A tear fell from her eye, but she quickly wiped it away.

"Thank you."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will ran through the city, sorrow giving his feet wings and a dormant memories suddenly resurfacing to show him the way through the labyrinth of streets. Evening gave way to night, wrapping herself in her starry cloak and releasing the gentle night winds. With one last bound, Will burst through the last row of houses, the extensive green opening up before him. He slowed to a brisk walk, his gaze intent on the brightly lit tent from which music and laughter emanated. He had to convince her to come away with him. Neither of them could survive in their new situation. Never. 

Will started jogging again, finding the tent wasn't coming closer fast enough. In the dark, he saw a white- clad figure dash from the tent, her veil flowing behind her. Elizabeth. He sped up. She was alone, so he could speak to her at his own leisure. Will reached the rise of a hill, the harbor and the tent suddenly closer than before. He took a step, allowing momentum to carry him forward, but he stumbled as he saw the all too familiar form of Norrington emerge from the tent. He heard him call out Elizabeth's name.

"She doesn't want to be near you, you bastard," Will muttered. "She wants to be with me."

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Elizabeth collapsed on a bench under the shadow of an oak tree, her head in her hands, wondering what on earth she was to do. Her thoughts bled and ran together and ricocheted off the sides of her skull and everything was so muddled, she just couldn't think. She rubbed her pounding temples, and sighed. She had to approach this slowly and rationally, like one of those horrid math problems her tutor made her do when she was younger. She breathed in deeply. Alright. She was a governor's daughter. She had a duty. Her duty was to marry a respectable man, like Commodore Norrington. Edward. She had done that. It was her duty. It was what she had been raised to do. She completed it. She even might learn to love him. So what was wrong?

It was became she loved Will. She had been captured by pirates and then Will had come after her and he was worried about her and he loved her and he saved her and they saved each other and they fell in love and then Edward had given her up and she and Will were going to marry and they were going to be so happy and then and then… Elizabeth shuddered at the memory of the fight that she and her father had. He had refused to let her marry Will… and he had arranged the wedding for the next day.

A shadow slanted across her and Elizabeth looked up. Edward was looking at her but when she raised her head, he shifted his gaze towards the harbor where the black water was dotted with white pearls. The stars were gazing in a vain fashion at their own reflections in the water, shining even more brightly because Edward was looking at them.

"I…was just speaking with your father," he started. Elizabeth noted he sounded tired and defeated. "And he sounded unusually smug and happy. I wasn't sure why. If I might say so, he's usually a pompous ass, please pardon my slander of him, but he never seemed so…" Edward trailed off and he sighed. He turned to her. "I am exceedingly sorry for what you have had to go through today. When I saw you and Will together, so very much in love, I thought it would be best to let you two be together. I was very much torn, for I love you very much, but I also wanted you to be happy. Then, when your father called on me and told me that you had changed your mind, I couldn't help but be overjoyed. In the back of my mind, I doubted his words somewhat, but I didn't think it possible that he would even think of forcing you to marry someone you did not love." He bowed his head. "I am truly sorry and I hope you will forgive the terrible blunder I have committed."

Elizabeth rose and went to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He tasted of white chocolate and raspberries.

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Thank you so much to my seventeen reviewers, I'm glad you liked the first chapter. I hope you liked the second. And guess who's going to be in the next chapter? Yours truly, Cap'n Jack Sparrow.


	3. Astonishment

Subsist  
  
By Suslin  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters below, not even the ones I made up. I only own the white chocolate and raspberries.  
  
Thank you to Aurora Conlon, babee-munky, Brooklyn Myst, cloudizacutie, Diamond-Dancer, DragonLadyKhushrenada, ElvishWhispers, Jay Alpha, Jehan's Muse, JesusFreak, Lady LifeCharm, Maeko-Nohara, OceanGirl28, QueenofSparrows, Rachel, Sienna3, Simbelmyne, Steff7, Tempest in Blue, Tinania Lindaleriel and yOUdON'TnKOWmE for all the wonderful reviews.  
  
NOTE: Jehan's Muse gets the award for putting up the most valiant defense against the influences of het. Congratulations.  
  
Here is chapter 3. And Jack is in it, as promised.  
  
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Captain Jack Sparrow was the kind of person who, when sober, was so paralyzing shy that whenever confronted with a crowded room of people, he always sought out secluded corners and stayed there. That was part of the reason he drank so much. To wash away the fear of being thought a fool and to cease caring what others thought. But tonight, even though he was not sober, he still sought out the closest corner of the tavern his crew had chosen to visit that night, a bottle of brandy cradled in his arms, his worn leather hat tipped low over his eyes.  
  
The tavern, The Whistling Elk, was well known for its malt beer and the loose tongues of its patrons. Everyone, excluding Jack, had wanted to go because it would be the best place to get the latest gossip and also the best place to get drunk on good beer. Jack had wanted to go to an inn called The Amber Tree, figuring since most rum was amber-colored, they probably had a lot of rum. But no, no one wanted to go to the Amber Tree. They wanted malt-beer. Jack hated malt beer. He had tried it when he was seven and hadn't touched the stuff since. Jack scowled at the bottle of brandy in his lap. He didn't like brandy much either. But it was alcohol and better than malt beer and that's all that mattered at the moment.  
  
Jack shifted in the torn leather booth he was wedged in, preparing for a light nap, when he heard his name. His ears pricked up instantly and he sat up, looking around for the owner of the voice. Peering around the end of the booth, he saw two men sitting at tall stools at bar, mulling over their drinks.  
  
"I don't see why Jerry doesn't just kick them out. They're way too rowdy, they take away everyone's money in card games and they scare away customers. It's just not right." The man grumbled. He was portly and Irish, as his head full of bright red hair and thick accent attested to. He wore a long green coat and fashionable black buckle shoes, which characterized him as merchant sailor. A slow grin played across Jack's face as he saw the man's clothes. If he proved to be too much of a fat, arrogant prick, they could always pay him a little visit once his merchant vessel set sail. The port city was neutral territory and therefore they could not raid each other's ships when they entered the harbor. Once they were out in open sea, though, they were free to do as they liked.  
  
"Yes, well, if you think the crew is bad, you should see the captain," a silky voice replied. "He bathes himself in rum and thinks he is the better for it. He's an artless, ill-breeded coxcomb." Jack frowned deeply. He looked around the booth at the second man. He was not built unlike Jack, just was smaller and paler and his face had a delicate bone structure. His was clean-shaven and hair was dark and tied back with a ribbon, which Jack rolled his eyes exasperatedly at.  
  
"What a coward," Jack mused. "Insulting me behind my back instead of to my face." Jack shook his head sadly at the man. "What a fool." Jack stretched out onto his stomach watching the men as they continued to trade insults back and forth about him and his crew. He propped his chin in his hands, wondering when he should step in and say something. The look on both their faces would be priceless.  
  
"He's the bastard son of a bankrupt Scotch peddler and his brother's slave," the second man proclaimed finally and Jack knew this was his chance.  
  
"Excuse me," Jack said waving at the two men. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just thought I heard you try to insult me. If I might say so, your skills at insulting people leave much to be desired. So let me explain something. An insult is not an insult unless it's insulting. It's only insulting if it's not true. Or if it's exaggerated. So, you just called me the "bastard son of a bankrupt peddler and his brother's slave." Is that correct?" The two men stared at Jack, dumbfounded.  
  
"Right, so, since I am the bastard son of a bankrupt peddler and his brother's slave, that wasn't insulting. Because, quite literally, it is true. Savvy?" Jack cocked an eyebrow at them. The dark-haired one recovered first.  
  
"So, it's the drunken fool himself. What an honor," he said, disdain dripping from every word. Jack grinned grimly. He got up and strode slowly over to the man. When he was about a foot away, he drew out his pistol. Pointing it between the man's eyes, he looked away, annoyed that he had to pay so much attention to the man. He looked back, then sniffed.  
  
"How about if I put it this way? If you and your friend here aren't out of this tavern by the time I count to three, I'll shoot your brains out. Are you savvy with that?"  
  
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Will woke up the next morning, soaked from head to foot in dew and mud, his neck cramped, his eyes puffy and his face lined with salt from the tears he had cried the night before. Seagulls were veering about and calling to each other above the sun-soaked water. Will sat up, rubbing his neck and squinting into the morning sun. The tent from the night before and all the decorations had been taken down. All the guests had gone home and Elizabeth had left with Norrington. Will closed his eyes and felt at his aching heart. Something felt different, a feeling inside of him had been ripped out and another replaced it.  
  
The new feeling swept across him, chilling him to the bone, and he shivered. He gathered his limbs in to himself and hugged his knees tightly. The anger and sorrow he had felt the night before was gone. Now, he just felt numb and alone.  
  
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Elizabeth sat in bed, aching in places she didn't even know existed. She was tired and hungry and she wasn't used to her new surroundings yet. After the excitement of the wedding, everything seemed to be going downhill.  
  
When she had woken up, Edward wasn't there, which had frightened her terribly. She had rushed out of the room, nearly knocking over a maid who told her he had to go attend to his duties as a commodore. Nearly collapsing in tears, the maid had comforted her and had told her to go back to bed and sleep more. But she couldn't. Her mind wandered back to such early memories as when her nurse had peeled her grapes for her and when she first met Will. His face swam in her vision and she held her head in her hands. He seemed to be such a forbidden thing now that she was married, but she still loved him. She knew that. She didn't love the commodore, but she was married to him.  
  
Elizabeth pulled the sheets over her head. The night before she had felt awkward and clumsy under Edward's skilled hands. He was patient, though, almost to the point where Elizabeth cried in frustration. She had tried to please him, but found she didn't know how to. She felt her cheeks flush with shame from the memory and she buried her head in the soft down pillow.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Dammit! What you mean you have rum?" Jack demanded of the bartender, waving around his empty brandy bottle. "All this time I've been drinking this stupid brandy and you've had rum? Why didn't you tell me?" The bartender, who had not dealt with drunken pirate captains before, put a hand on Jack's arm.  
  
"I think you've had enough to drink." He said, patting Jack's arm soothingly.  
  
"But there's rum!" Jack protested, throwing the man's arm off. "A man does not let an opportunity to drink rum slip by just because he's had too much to drink. Not when there's more rum to be had. Now give me the stuff or I'll throw this bottle at you."  
  
"Sir," the bartender began. "I think you should go home."  
  
The glass shattered just a moment later and the bartender, who didn't duck in time, was showered with glass shards. He blinked stupidly once or twice, then reached for the nearest bottle of rum and handed it to Jack. Even when drunk, Jack could wield a brandy bottle with amazing accuracy and skill.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Will made it back to the shop just after the seven o' clock bell had chimed. As he stepped into the shop, Master Brown descended upon him.  
  
"Where on earth have you been? The shop was supposed to open an hour ago!" He roared. Will stared at the man and sighed.  
  
"I went to a wedding reception."  
  
"Was it your wedding?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well then there's no excuse."  
  
"It was the wedding of the girl I love." Master Brown was suddenly quiet.  
  
"Oh, Will. I'm sorry. " Will pushed past him and went to get his sword from the acid bath. He got a towel, then pulled it and put on the table next to the basin.  
  
"Who was she?" Master Brown asked.  
  
"Elizabeth Swann." Will answered stiffly. More silence followed. Will got a ceramic jug and poured the acid from the basin into the jug. The put the jug aside, then wiped down the blade. The acid had eaten away at the softer metal surrounding the blade, revealing the fine grain that had been created in the process of folding the metal.  
  
"Elizabeth Swann got married?" Master Brown asked meekly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"To whom?"  
  
"Commodore Norrington."  
  
"Oh. I'm so sorry, Will." Will reached for a block of Osage orange wood and began to fashion a handle to go with the blade.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"What do you mean Elizabeth Swann got married? Of course she got married!" Jack announced after one of his crew members had told him that he had heard of the marriage of the governor's daughter. "I'm just terribly disappointed that we didn't get invited. All sorts of drinks are abound at weddings. Champagne and such. So, she and Will got married, did they? Good for them."  
  
"Sir, that's just the thing."  
  
"Though since I saved Will's life, I would expect some gratitude in return. But no, he didn't invite us to his wedding." Jack sighed. What has become of friendship?" He lifted his rum bottle to his lips and only a few drops spilt into his mouth. "Loyalty?" He asked, dropping the bottle onto the table. "Hos-pitality?" Jack stumbled over the words, but managed to keep them intact. "Tell me, what has become of them?"  
  
"Miss Swann didn't marry Will Turner."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sir, they said that she married the commodore." Jack moaned. Mostly because he didn't have anymore rum, though.  
  
"Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Bloody women. Going off and marrying people they aren't supposed to. Someone needs to go knock some sense into her. With a big stick." 


	4. Secrets and Matchmaking

Subsist

By Suslin

In which Edward receives a package, Elizabeth decides to be defiant and Master Brown plays matchmaker.

Thank you everyone for the amazingly amazing reviews. I'm sorry I haven't updated. After the third chapter I just lost all inspiration…until now. Hope you enjoy.

***

Chapter 3

Edward Norrington was shuffling through the legal papers on his desk distractedly when there came a knock on the door. His head snapped up and he looked across the dark, cluttered room at the lacquered mahogany door.

            "Yes, come in," he bade. He watched to see whose form would appear in the doorway.

            "I send my greetings to you commodore. And how was last night?" A familiar voice questioned. Edward dropped the papers onto his desk and rose. His lieutenant stepped inside then shut the door behind him, the room echoing with a resounding 'click' as the door fit into place.

            "Lieutenant," Edward said as a manner of greeting.

            "Commodore," Anthony Gillette replied, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

            "Last night went very well, thank you for asking."

            "Was she everything you every dreamed of?"

            "Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but I do not wish to discuss what happened between my wife and me last night. It's a personal matter and one not to be discussed at such a time." Edward looked Anthony square in the eye and the lieutenant laughed, then placed a package on the commodore's desk.

            "This came for you."

            "Thank you, now if you would kindly get back to your duties?"

            "Yes," Anthony said, leaning on the desk. "But will I see you tonight?" Edward glared.

            "Can we _please discuss this later?"_

            "When? Tonight?"

            "Well, I-," Edward started when the door slammed open. The two men hastily stepped away from each other.

            "Norrington, I've just gotten a report of this Sparrow raiding ports along the coast of Hispaniola. This is what we you for letting him go. I could have you're head for this, but you're too valuable. I want you going after him as soon as possible. Gillette, get back to work."

            "Yes, general," Edward responded.

***

            Elizabeth sat in bed, examining the bruises between her thighs. There were several impressive purple-blue marks and she sighed in misery, then pulled the hem of her nightgown back down her legs. _What was I thinking? Will would have been so much gentler. It would have been such a wonderful experience with him. But with the commodore, no. It was awkward at best. Very awkward._ She sat in the midst of the blankets and sheets, head between her knees.

"What have I done?" Elizabeth slid herself to the side of the bed, then swung her legs over the side. She got down on her hands and knees and pulled up a corner of a sheet that was dragging on the floor. She groped in the dark, then felt something soft. She dragged out one slipper, then the other and sat there, pulling them on. She got to her feet, her muscles sore and aching, and then pulled on a bathrobe.

She then exited the room, not caring that the maids, the butler and who knows who else would see her in nothing but her nightclothes. She closed the door behind her, then wound her way through the hallways until she appeared on a balcony overlooking the front door to the house. She leaned against the banister for a moment, then made her way downstairs and she found her way to the servants quarters. As soon as she entered, the servants all stood, looking shocked. She saw some of the stablehands exchange looks, but she just leaned against the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

"Good morning. Do you have anything to eat?" She asked. Some of the younger maids snickered. An elderly woman approached her and took her by the elbow and led her into the dining room.

"Are you alright, mistress?" Elizabeth nodded.

"Yes, thank you. By any chance could I have a mug of willowbark tea and a mug of honey tea?"

"Yes, all you have to do is ask. That's what we're here for. Do sit down," she said. Elizabeth complied and the housemaid left Elizabeth to contemplate the far wall. Her eyes eventually wandered to the window.

"Will, dammit. Come rescue me." She whispered halfheartedly.

***

            Will stared at the sword he had finished. It was a work of art. Double-edged like love and sharp like cupid's arrows. The osage orange hilt shined with gloss as Will held it to the light.

            "That's a handsome sword, Will." Will turned to face his master.

            "Thank you."

            "I think you could fetch a handsome price for that." Will shrugged.

            "I could care less, really." He readjusted his hands along the blade then offered the hilt to his master. Johann Brown took the sword, then sighed.

            "Will, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

            "Who?"

            "A friend."

            "Well I can't talk long because I have to work on Mr. Whitefield's order, but alright." Johann's ruddy face split into a grin.

            "Good. Now splash your face with some water and rub off the soot. You have to look presentable." Will raised an eyebrow but went over to the basin of water near the window of the forge and rubbed the grime off his face. He dusted himself off, then went into the adjacent room. A girl, pretty and blond stood there clutching a blue bonnet in her hands.

            "Will, this is Mary Edwards, the baker's daughter. Mary, this is Will Turner. Mary's interested in blacksmithing. Do tell her about it. Oh, and you have the day off. Walk with her." Will gaped as his master departed quickly, leaving him with the girl.

            "Well, then," Will said.

            "So," said Mary. "I was wondering, do mules wear horseshoes or do they wear muleshoes? Because they're not really horses."

***

"Five Black Sea Bass. And could you filet them please? And remove the pin bones? Please," the man in front of Jack asked of the young woman at the fish stand. She nodded curtly, then took out five dark fish. She took a knife an cut off the head and tail of the fish. She split its stomach lengthwise and quickly gutted it. She cut the rest of the fish off and placed the two halves next to each other. She ran her fingers gently along the flesh from the broader head end toward the tail end.  The tips of the bones lifted up a bit in the flesh and using small tweezers, she grabbed the tip of each pin bone and gently pulled the bones out. She discarded them in the wheelbarrow behind her, then wrapped the fish and gave it to the customer. The customer gave her the money and she thanked him then pocketed the money. She looked up and Jack stepped forward. He tipped his hat to her.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," she responded, eyes narrowing. She turned from Jack and called a small boy to her side. She deposited the money from her pockets into the boy's hand then sent him running. "Can I help you?" Jack leaned against the counter.

"Have you any brothers?"

"Yes. Five."

"Any of them good sailors?"

"Yes. All of them."

"Which one would you say is the best?"

"They're all fair sailors, but I'm the best of the lot."

"You?" Jack asked. "But you're….."

"A woman?"

"A girl, actually. That was the word I was looking for." The young woman frowned.

"That hurt." Jack smirked.

"I'm sure." She crossed her arms.

 "I doubt any of my brothers would join your crew." Jack pouted.

"But one of my crew jumped off the boat for no apparent reason." She raised an eyebrow.

"In that case, I'm **sure none of them would join your crew." Jack sighed.**

"I see you didn't mention yourself. Would _you_ join us?"

"I'm not a whore. I would do no such thing."

"But you work with your hands so well." She laughed.

"So you're the famous Jack Sparrow? We I _am_ honored." Jack shrugged.

"What can I say?" The young woman laughed then drew a pistol.

"I think your last words would be appropriate at this point."

***

            Edward stared at the contents of the package, horrified. He looked around nervously them ripped up the note that went with it and stashed its contents in a drawer in his desk. He locked the compartment then tossed the box in the corner.

            "I'll kill him for this," he muttered. There came a knock at the door and he jumped half a foot in the air. He composed himself as best he could then sat down.

            "Come in." The door swung open and Elizabeth stepped in, fully dressed, lace at her throat and wrists. She closed the pink parasol she had been carrying then looked around his office interestedly.

            "So this is where you work. Your inner sanctum."

            "Dearest, how are you? So good to see you. I missed you the moment I stepped out the door." Elizabeth looked up from her perusal of his collection of books.

            "Did you? That's sweet of you."

            "Thank you. Dearest, are you just here to see me or did you have something to tell me?"

            "Oh. I came to ask you, do you mind terribly? I was bored and decided to open the wedding presents without you. I'm really sorry. I couldn't resist."

            "No, no. Of course not dear. It's just… I thought we were going to do that together." Elizabeth sighed and fiddled with a piece of lace.

            "You left early this morning."

            "Yes. I have my job."

            "Yes _of course, your job. Well that explains it. Couldn't even have waited until I woke up."_

            "Elizabeth, please. I couldn't.

            "Of course you couldn't dear. I was just a bit disappointed that you weren't there."

            "I _am sorry my dear."_

            "Of course you are." She walked forward and sat halfway on his desk.

            "Do you have enough time for a short walk?"

            "No, I haven't my dear, I'm terribly sorry."

            "Right," Elizabeth whispered. "I'll be off then." She stood then slipped out the door. Norrington dropped his head into his hands as the door clicked shut.

***

            "Well, that's pretty much all I can tell you about blacksmithing."

            "It _was fascinating," Mary said, stifling a yawn. "Perhaps I'll come tomorrow." Will nodded with much effort._

            "Please do." She girl smiled then left the shop. Will choked on the tears he had been holding back all day and he slumped down in the nearest thing he could find when Mr. Brown appeared suddenly.

            "How did it go?" Will closed his eyes and moaned. "Bad, eh?"

            "Are you _trying to torture me?" Will asked._

            "No, I just wanted to help you."

"Help me what?"

"Find another true love."

            "_Another _true love? Is that even possible?"

            "Anything's possible Will. Especially concerning love."

            "Not concerning _true_ love, I think. Thank you for the effort, though." Mr. Brown sighed then squatted next to Will.

            "Let's put it this way, Will. The capacity for a person to love is very big. Though Elizabeth may have taken a piece of your heart, there will always be room for another love. For an indefinite amount of loves. Because the capacity for a person to love is boundless. So I want you to find a girl and fall in love with her and be happy, alright?" Will looked at Mr. Brown

            "Capacity?" Mr. Brown chuckled.

            "My new word."

            "Ah." Will covered his eyes for a moment, contemplating, then extended his hand. "Deal."


End file.
